Of Food and Love: mother's day 2013 mother's day thoughts motherhood
by Mommy Hobbies
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In my napsack stash
Mother’s Day is two days away. I’m planning a dinner, featuring our latest fav recipe, Coconut Curry Beef, and inviting the in-laws over. Somehow, my grand plans of getting away over the weekend with my husband and babies got lost in ocean that is reality.
So Coconut Curry Beef and in-laws it is this year
To be honest, Mother’s Day has never meant anything to me, for myself. I have never felt like a mother or like I deserved the title. I think all the accolades and recognition is unnecessary, for me, and it’s embarrassing. There hasn’t been one Mother’s Day that I’ve stood there thinking, “Wow, look at me, I’m a mom, look at all the hard work I’ve put into raising these children. *whew* So glad everyone noticed.”
I’ve always looked at Mother’s Day for someone other than myself. My mom, for instance, or the other precious women in my life who invested in me and sacrificed so much for me. But, Mother’s Day for me? No. Not sure when I’ll ever feel qualified to stand up with other mothers.
It’s only been recently that I’ve even begun to feel the remotest of connections with the word *mother* in relation to myself. I look at my children much more differently than I did even last year or the year before and most definitely differently from the first breath of Cylas. When I had Cylas, it was as if another woman had given birth and left this blue, screaming, discontented little object on my doorstep with a little note that said *Good LUCK!*.
I’ve come a long, long way.
It’s been forever since I’ve compared myself to other moms. Quite frankly, I don’t have enough close acquaintances to do that with and I’m much too busy with my babies’ lives to look around and say, “Shoot, why can’t I be more like her?” I used to do it– a lot. Now, only a few times a year do I do that. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped evaluating myself or that I feel like I have *arrived*, I’ve just become more satisfied with the love I receive from my children and that soothes most of my insecurities and validates my worthiness as their mama.
The moment I gave birth was when my place in the world was set in stone. (for those who are adoptive, guardian, foster, sister/mom, brother/mom, grandparents, or angel baby mommies, it’s all the same, you ARE a mommy and I’m not minimizing any of those special positions) My children made me special. They made my life worth mention, because everything I am, they reflect, they speak of the deepest parts of me, they speak of my character in hidden times, they expose the *real* me unfiltered…They are my greatest advocates. They are who I am.
Being a mom isn’t easy — it smells like poopoo, it’s gooey like snot, it comes in two and three hour night shifts for the first 4-5 years, it smells like baby soap, it giggles, it makes suckling noises, it burps, it screams, it fights, it argues, it loves, it cries, it forgives, it caresses your face, it cares for you, it leans on your shoulder, it whispers secrets in your ear, it’s endlessly hungry, it leaves muddy footprints on your freshly washed floors.
Motherhood is everything — it made me into someone special.